


The Care and Feeding of a Prince of China (and a Dragon)

by TheNarator



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Gen, Interspecies Friendship, Species Swap, dragon!laurence, dragon!laurence is so done with everything, human!Temeraire, human!temeraire is a brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarator/pseuds/TheNarator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Temeraire is the bratty young Prince of China, Laurence is a retired Regal Copper, the British are assholes and Qian is the best mother ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prince's Dragon

Prince Xiang surveyed the land before him in confusion and dawning frustration. He had been told by a somewhat slow-witted and confused English ambassador that this was where the English dragons lived, but he could see no pavilions at all, just a rocky landscape studded with the mouths of many caves. He was sure he could not conceive of why the cities had all been built too small for dragons to live in, so that they had to live way out here, or why he had been forbidden from seeing them, forcing him to sneak away from his guard. Still, he'd heard many stories about the dragons in England, beasts of fantastic size and even ones that could spit acid, and he was determined to meet at least one before he returned to China.

Deciding that he might as well have a look around before going back he clambered over the rocky outcroppings until he stood at the opening to an enormous cave. He examined the interior closely; it looked too large to be anything but deliberate, and the floor was worn smooth as though from many comings and goings. However, he did not see the use of such a place; surely it could not be very comfortable, nor did it seem particularly safe for storing things.

Just as he was concluding that there was no possible reason the cave should be so frequently visited, the shadows just beyond the threshold shifted and a pair of bright eyes the size of cart wheels opened to peer at him out of the gloom.

"Oh!" said Xiang, taking a small step back before remembering himself quickly; it would not do to give a poor first impression to the first English dragon ever seen by a member of the Imperial family. "Hello, I did not see you there. What are you doing in this cave?"

"I live here," the dragon said, in a deep rumbling voice. The sound felt absurdly large, though the dragon did not seem as though it tried to be very loud.

"You live _here?"_ Xiang demanded in alarm. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness of the cave, and he could see the outline of a tremendous dragon, bigger than any he had ever seen, curled in on itself as though sleeping. He could not conceive why such an enormous creature would want to live folded inside such a small, uncomfortable place.

The dragon began to uncurl itself, and Xiang could see that it was even larger than he had originally thought. It did not stand up to its full height, Xiang was not sure he _could_ in this space, but instead began to shuffle back slowly, going deeper into the cave.

"Wait!" Xiang called. "You don't need to be afraid! I did not mean to shout. Will you tell me your name?"

"My name is Praesidium," the dragon said calmly, "and I am not afraid. I am a bit farsighted, is all, and I cannot see you very clearly. Pray move back a few steps, if you please."

Xiang blinked, a little surprised, but obliged. The dragon surveyed him critically, first with one eye and then the other. Xiang waited for him to give the rest of his name, but he did not seem to have any intention of doing so.

"You don't look like an Englishman," Praesidium concluded at last, sounding confused but unconcerned.

"I am not English, no," Xiang confirmed, "I am Prince Xiang, of China, grandson of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the dragon, making Xiang jump. "What on Earth are you doing here?"

"We came to England to learn about ships," Xiang explained cautiously, mindful of Praesidium's apparent alarm. "I came here, to this place in particular, because I wanted to meet an English dragon."

Praesidium blinked at him, eyes wide, but said nothing. He did not seem to know what to say. Concluding that the dragon must be simply overwhelmed at being the presence of the Emperor's grandson, Xiang continued. "Pray, will you tell me the rest of your name?"

"The rest of . . . what?" Praesidium asked, looking warily at Xiang. Xiang hoped he would not try to retreat into the cave; it was very dark inside, and it would be nearly impossible to get a good look at him. He seemed very skittish, for being so large.

"The English have their names backwards," Xiang explained, "with the individual's name first and then the family name. Here it is polite to call someone by their family name, until you know them awhile, correct? I would like to know your family name, so that I might address you properly, as the English do."

"Praesidium is the only name I have," the dragon explained in some confusion. "My sire was Potestatem, if that's what you mean. Dragons do not have surnames, although all my Captains had the surname Laurence, if you wish to think of them as my family."

"Laurence, then," Xiang concluded, seizing upon the offered solution, "and you may call me Xiang, if you like."

Laurence tried to repeat the name, but it sounded so mangled coming from his mouth that he hunched down again, ashamed. He tried to shuffle back into the cave again, repeating, "I am sorry, so very sorry, your Highness," but Xiang darted forward into the darkness after him.

"Wait!" he called, then hastily retreated a few steps as Laurence reared up his head dangerously close to the stone ceiling, blinking repeatedly. "If it will make you feel better, you may call me something else!"

The dragon hesitated a few moments, as though unsure how he should respond to such an offer. "Oughtn't you be somewhere?" Laurence pleaded. "Haven't you any guards or . . . or a train of some kind?"

"Yes, yes," Xiang waved this away, "but they did not want to let me meet any dragons, because the English ambassadors did not want me to, so I sneaked away from them. Mother will forgive me, I am not worried."

"How old are you?" Laurence inquired. "If you're traveling with your mother-"

"I am quite old enough to be on my own," Xiang cut him off. Thirteen, he reasoned, was plenty old enough, even if he did not yet have his own estate. "Now, if you please, I should like an English name, so that English people need not always be calling me 'Your Highness,' which grows very tiresome after a while."

Laurence regarded him carefully for a moment, and then two. Xiang was just beginning to wonder what he should do if Laurence were to outright refuse when the dragon said, "Temeraire. It is the name of a ship my Captain, the last but one, used to talk about. It was a very good sort of ship, and very famous. We took it from the French, you see, just like China has chosen to ask England for ships, when I know France has been courting you for the privilege for some time now."

Xiang beamed at him. His name in Chinese meant 'lucky' and given that it was his twin brother and not him who would ascend the throne, he did not think the name very apt. This name, on the other hand, had been chosen for him very carefully, thought through and given special consideration. He liked it, immensely.

"It also," Laurence finished, with great satisfaction, "means 'reckless'."

Xiang laughed. Or rather, Temeraire laughed. _Yes,_ he thought, _I am Temeraire. In China I am Xiang, and in England I will be Temeraire._

"A wonderful name," Temeraire assured Laurence, still laughing. "It is perfect. Now, will you take me flying?"

"What?" Laurence demanded, his previous satisfaction forgotten. "No! Whyever would I take you flying?"

"Because I am a Prince of China," Temeraire explained patiently, "and England wants my grandfather to lend his support to their war with France. Don't you think you aught to do this thing for me, which is only a simple thing really, if it will make me happy? I will be writing to the Emperor, very soon, to tell him if I have enjoyed my visit, and I should think that you would like me to say that I have."

Temeraire's eyes had adjusted a little more to the darkness, so he could just make out Laurence's horrified expression. "Why you little beastie!" he exclaimed. "That is deplorably underhanded, and quite ungentlemanly!"

"I do not much care for the English concept of 'gentlemanly'," Temeraire said flippantly, "from my experience thus far it seemly only to mean that I cannot do anything fun."

"But, but," Laurence scrambled for an objection, "you are not an aviator! You haven't any training, it is not safe!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Temeraire insisted, still smiling reassuringly in the face of Laurence's distress, "I have flown on a dozen dragons or more, in my lifetime, and no tragedy has ever befallen me."

"I- I have no harness!" Laurence tried. "There is nothing for you to latch onto."

"I can hold on quite well," Temeraire assured him. "If you will simply have a care to keep your back level, while we are in the air, we should do quite well."

"I-" Laurence began, but Temeraire cut him off.

"You will not make me beg, will you Laurence?" he said, in mock hurt. "It is very unbecoming, for a Prince of China to beg, and quite an insult to the Emperor for you to make me."

Laurence stopped, frozen in place by this new tactic of persuasion. He looked stricken for a moment, and Temeraire almost withdrew his request, feeling guilty for having caused Laurence such obvious anguish, but then Laurence looked at him strangely, and then at last spoke, slowly and carefully. "I would not for the world offer insult to the Emperor," he said cautiously, "only, are you certain? I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Temeraire beamed at him. "It's perfectly safe, my dear Laurence."

"You will be careful? And, while we are in the air, you will do as I ask you, and not take any unnecessary risks?" Laurence asked plaintively.

"Of course," Temeraire promised. "We may go wherever you like. I know very little of this country, so I can hardly object to whatever destination you choose."

Laurence hesitated another moment, then slowly began to creep forward out of the cave. Temeraire scrambled back hastily, eager not to obstruct Laurence's way, and in a moment Laurence had emerged blinking into the bright sunlight, standing up to his full height and stretching stiffly. Temeraire gaped at him. He was a great deal larger than any dragon Temeraire had ever seen, fifty tons or more perhaps, and he was all over red and orange, which gleamed gold in the sunlight.

"Beautiful," Temeraire whispered, half to himself.

"What?" asked Laurence, shaking out his wings. He did not pick Temeraire up but rather offered him one taloned foreclaw.

"You're beautiful," Temeraire repeated, louder this time, as he climbed carefully into Laurence's grip, remarkably gentle, and was lifted up to sit at the base of Laurence's neck. "Your scales glitter like gold."

"More like copper," Laurence remarked offhandedly, "I suppose you do not know, but my breed is called the Regal Copper."

"I am not sure I agree with 'copper'," Temeraire said doubtfully, "but I must say that you are very regal."

Laurence ducked his head, as though not sure how to answer, and merely said, "Hold on now." And then they were aloft.

The English countryside passed by beneath them, lovely and peaceful. Temeraire tried to move closer to Laurence's shoulder, to better admire the rolling hills and brilliant green of the grass, but Laurence snapped at him anxiously to be still, and mindful of his promise Temeraire placed himself at the base of Laurence's neck again. The weather was fair and Laurence was flying quickly, his powerful wings thrusting mightily at regular intervals, the skin between the wing joints billowing out like the sails of a ship

"Amazing," Temeraire breathed, not even sure himself if he meant the landscape or the dragon.

"It is rather, isn't it?" Laurence replied amicably, surprising him. He had not realized the dragon had been listening.

Temeraire had been flying many times in his life, with his mother's Celestial companion or with one of the Imperials. Laurence was much bigger than any of them, however, and he felt somehow steadier, like a piece of solid stone moving through the air. But for the wind rushing through his hair he might not have said he was flying at all, might have thought he was simply moving very quickly along very even ground. Even though he knew Laurence had no such power as the Divine Wind, nor even the ability to spit acid, as Temeraire was given to understand that the ability belonged to a breed called the Longwing, he still felt extremely powerful, as though nothing would dare get in his way. He felt, for some reason, utterly secure.

Which was perhaps why it took him so long to realize they were heading for London.

"No! Not this way!" Temeraire called over the wind, knowing full well Laurence could hear him. "The Embassy is in London, and that's where my mother's guard will be! They'll find us!"

"That's precisely the point," Laurence said calmly, not in the least concerned by Temeraire's outburst. "I'm taking you back to your party, who must all be very worried about you."

"But I do not _want_ to go back yet!" Temeraire complained.

"I did not want to take you flying with me," Laurence reminded him. "You did not care. Why should I care if you do not wish to go back to London, which is where you aught to be anyway?"

Temeraire frowned petulantly. He could see the justice in that, he supposed, but it was very inconvenient. "I thought we were having fun," he said, in a small voice.

"It is . . . quite pleasant, to fly with someone again," Laurence conceded gently, "but it is your duty to remain with your mother and not cause her undue trouble while she is trying to conduct negotiations between our nations, and therefore it is my duty to return you to her care."

Soon thereafter they were landing just outside London, and it was not long before someone in uniform was coming out to greet them; but to Temeraire's great surprise the man paid him no attention at all, and instead began shouting angrily at Laurence. He said that Laurence was not allowed to be so close to the city, that people were frightened of him and he aught never have come here. Laurence, however, did not even attempt to defend himself. He agreed meekly with everything the man said, and made no move the explain the situation. Temeraire could not begin to understand it. Why was Laurence not allowed near the city, and not just Laurence, but no dragons at all? Why was the man so angry, when Laurence had only meant to bring an honored guest back to the city safely? Why were they not happy, grateful even, that Laurence had spoiled his own fun in order to be responsible, all for their sake?

Before Temeraire could begin to voice any of these objections to Laurence's ill usage however, several of the Imperial Guards were running to meet them, and Laurence was obliged to stop listening to the man in uniform for a moment so he could lift Temeraire down from his back.

"Are you even listening to me, you dumb beast!" he demanded, when Laurence turned his attention back to him.

"Yes, sir," Laurence insisted, bowing his head even lower in deference to the man's authority.

"You will not speak to him that way!" Temeraire insisted, shaking off the worrying hands of the guards even as he saw his mother walking toward him with determined slowness, her eyes hard and glaring. "He only meant to bring me back safely, he did nothing wrong!"

The man in uniform, however, continued to pay him no mind. "I am terribly sorry Your Highness," he said to Temeraire's mother instead. "This type of behavior from dragons is not normally tolerated, will not be tolerated, in the least. It seems Prince Xiang has been returned to you, no harm done, and you can rest assured the beast will be put down immediately."

"What?" Temeraire demanded in alarm. "What do you mean 'put down'? What do you intend to do with Laurence?"

"He means that I will be executed, Temeraire," Laurence explained gently. "I have broken the law, and now I must pay for it."

Temeraire stared at him, appalled. What kind of law would permit the execution of a person who had only been trying to protect someone? How could the man speak of killing Laurence, without trial or even inquiry, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world? And whyever was Laurence not _saying_ anything, as though he did not even care if he was killed for such a stupid reason, or for any reason at all?

Temeraire struggled wildly for a moment, then broke free of the guards holding him and dashed to Laurence's side. He seized hold of one of the great forelegs, though his arms did not begin to go around it, and turned the full force of his glare on the man in uniform, summoning all of the wrath of his Imperial blood.

"You will not harm Laurence," he said, his voice hard and cold. "I will not allow this. He has done nothing wrong, and if you execute him I will tell my grandfather not to give you any of the things you want, and to go to war with you besides."

The man stopped his yelling and his wheedling, staring wide-eyed at the young prince, and Temeraire thought with a savage delight that he looked as panic-stricken as Temeraire felt. "Your Highness," he said, then paused as though not sure what to say next. He looked desperately at Temeraire's mother, but she was watching her son with curious eyes, and paid the man no attention at all.

"Temeraire," Laurence said, softly and quietly, as intimately as someone of his size could manage. "I must, I _do_ beg you not to enter into a resolution which should prevent my being able to face death with equanimity. You should make me a coward, if I must fear that my death should turn you against my country. A cowardly man is one thing, but there can be no excuse for a cowardly dragon."

"But I do not at all want you to face death with equanimity!" Temeraire insisted, shocked at Laurence's resignation. "I will not let them hurt you! I refuse to allow you to be killed over something so stupid as leaving your cave to bring me back to London!"

"I have broken the law," Laurence repeated. "Dragons are not permitted this close to the city, _any_ city, and I have come much closer than would be necessary to make a nuisance of myself. It is only fitting-"

"It is not!" Temeraire argued. "You have done the Emperor a great service, by returning me safely. You aught to be honored for this, not treated like a criminal because of some silly law that says that dragons may not go where they like! Whyever did you bring me so close, if you knew that you would be punished so?"

"I did not want you running off again," Laurence explained with maddening calmness. "I had no doubt that if I did not deliver you directly to your guard you would be putting yourself in danger once more the moment I lost sight of you." He nosed at Temeraire, with infinite gentleness. "You are quite reckless, little beastie."

Temeraire looked up at him, feeling utterly broken. To know that he had put this dragon, this kind and gentle and dutiful friend, into such peril over a simple stroke of wanderlust, was unthinkable. It was too much to be borne.

"There, you see?" said the man in uniform, completely insensate to his despair. "He has every intention of submitting to the justice demanded by his crimes. Now, if-"

"No!" Temeraire shouted, temper flaring far beyond his control. "I will not let you harm Laurence, who has been so good to me and done so much to protect me, and was willing to give so much for my sake. If you cannot appreciate him for what he has done, then I will take him back to China with me, where he will be treated with the respect he deserves!"

"You cannot-" the man in uniform began.

"It would appear," said Temeraire's mother, surprising them all by joining the conversation unexpectedly, "that Prince Xiang has chosen this dragon for his companion, and been accepted in return. As there are not enough Celestial dragons at present for every member of the Emperor's family to be blessed with their companionship, by Chinese law their bond is valid." The man in uniform opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand, and he fell silent. "We are prepared to open the port of Peking, and establish a unique trade agreement with Britain that may include the trade of English ships for the support of the Chinese army in your war with France, if you will allow us to take this most honorable dragon with us back to China."

"What?" said the man in uniform.

"What?" said Laurence.

"Oh Mother what a splendid notion!" Temeraire exclaimed, beaming at her. "You always know _exactly_ what to do!"


	2. Sea of Jade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the second book was more of a series of loosely connected events arranged in chronological order than a story where one scene flowed smoothly into another, this is mostly just a series of moments with something resembling a plot mostly in the next chapter. For those of you who are wondering about how important I make it out to be that Laurence is so big, I need to you understand that Naomi Novik has no sense of relative size. She repeatedly says that Temeraire and Maximus are reasonably close to each other in size, but Temeraire is also repeatedly put at 20 tons or somewhere thereabouts, and Maximus is said to be big for a Regal Copper who can clock in at about 50 tons, more than twice that. Either Maximus is twice as dense as Temeriare (meaning that he shouldn't be able to get off the ground) or Novik's sense of scale is fucked. The end result, however, is that the category of 'heavyweight' is pretty broad. For the purposes of this fic i'm going to say that in China the Imperials are considered to be about as big as dragons get, and the English have dragons twice that large, so Laurence being his size is pretty impressive in and of itself in China.

"Your Highness, I must advise against this course of action," said one of his mother's envoys, an older man that had been selected to accompany them by the Emperor himself. Temeraire paid him no attention. He had already decided that the name 'Temeraire' would be for when he was in Laurence's company, rather than when he was in England. Admittedly Laurence would have to learn Chinese at some point, but the prospect of something so intimate between them, like a secret, pleased Temeraire greatly. In the meantime, however, Temeraire had ordered all of their party to speak English in Laurence's presence, but the man before him had spoken in Chinese.

"Yes yes," Temeraire waved him off, very pointedly in English, "so you have said." They were currently seated comfortably in the enormous tent that had been improvised for himself and Laurence, with the envoy (Lord Bayan? Or a follower of that man? he hadn't been paying much attention when they were introduced) seated on a stack of cushions and Temeraire reclining on Laurence's right foreleg. He was currently eyeing Laurence's long neck, wondering if it would look best in a fitted gold collar or with several gold chains hung around it.

The envoy did not seem to appreciate that he was being dismissed, pressing on despite Temeraire's obvious disinterest in the conversation, though he did continue in English rather than Chinese. "The Imperial breed is more suited to one of your noble lineage. Lung Qin Li-" 

"Lung Qin Li is very boring," Temeraire interrupted him. "All she does is write poetry, which is all very well and good but she has nothing to write  _about,_  so she just writes the same poem over and over." A thought struck him, and he looked up at Laurence in excitement. "Will you teach me English poetry? That must be very interesting, as you are always going to war with someone or other."

"I'm afraid I don't know any," Laurence confessed, without a hint of hesitation though it made the man-who-might-be-Bayan draw in a breath through his teeth. "I have been in several wars myself, however, and I can tell you all you like about the battles I have fought in."

"Oh that is much better!" Temeraire exclaimed. "I am certain your stories will be much better than Lung Qin Li's poems, and perhaps we can write some poetry about them together."

The complaints, however, continued as though Temeraire had not spoken at all. "We must also consider the ship we are to take back to Peking, which will be the only one we have to study until more trade agreements are made. A dragon transport will be much less useful, particularly for warfare." 

"And yet we will need them if we are to offer aid to our new friends in Britain," Temeraire explained patiently. He was sure he'd already been over this, and had decided by now that this could not be Lord Bayan, as a Lord certainly could not have remained a Lord very long if he were this stupid. "Anyway, you have just been told that Laurence has fought in a great many wars, surely you can see that his skill and experience offers its own advantage; more than enough, I would say, to make companionship to a member of the Emperor's family entirely sensible."

"One can hardly compare the brute strength of your English barbarian to the power of the Divine Wind," said not-Lord-Bayan testily.

"Laurence is not a barbarian!" Temeraire snapped, defensive as he felt Laurence shifting anxiously beneath him, "and you will not speak of him that way! It is very impressive to be able to summon a windstorm, but that is not the  _only_ way to-"

"Good god Temeraire," Laurence exclaimed, and Temeraire looked up at him in alarm. "I am not even a Longwing! If such a power as that is needed to keep you safe, then I cannot consider myself equal to the task."

"Pay him no mind, my dear Laurence," Temeraire soothed, reaching up until Laurence lowered his head so that Temeriare could stroke his muzzle. "It is only the Celestials that have the power of the Divine Wind, and there are no more of them that do not already have companions. He wants me to bond to an Imperial, which are not half so big as you and have no special abilities besides. If I took one of  _those_  for my companion I should only have one that was the same as my brother, only lesser;  _you_  have a strength which is entirely different from either of them, and new in all of China."

"Will you tell me about your brother?" Laurence asked, when their guest had finally acknowledged his dismissal and bowed deeply before exiting the tent.

Temeraire shrugged, inwardly back to planning what sort of gems he should have set into the first fitted collar Laurence would have, the one he would wear when he met the Emperor. "We are twins, but he is the Crown Prince because he was born first. He used to be very much the same as I am, when we were younger, but as we got older he had more responsibility, and we grew apart. I had not seen him in over a month, when we left China, because he was so busy with his duties."

"And he is the . . . he has as 'Celestial'?" Laurence ventured timidly.

Temeraire nodded, a little puzzled. "He is to be Emperor, after all, and it is necessary for the Emperor to be bonded to a Celestial. I suppose it is rather fitting for me to have a dragon from the West as well, because I am to be the future of our relationship with Europe, or so mother keeps saying."

"And is that worth it?" Laurence's voice was anxious, as though he feared Temeraire's answer. "To have to take a dragon transport, instead of the one you wanted?"

"My dear Laurence," Temeraire laughed, finally understanding Laurence's distressed. He smiled reassuringly up at his dragon, pressing his cheek to the warm hide behind his head. "I would rather have you than any ship in the Navy."

***

Temeraire was slowly coming to realize that life up to now had not been very kind to Laurence. Aside from having recently lived in a cave he had been quite shocked to understand that the large tent outside the city limits was being erected for him as well as Temeraire. He had no jewels of any kind, indeed he knew only two dragons who did, and vehemently declined all Temeraire's offers to buy him a few trinkets to wear until they reached China, stating that he could not have asked for such extravagance even though the designs Temeraire had showed him were quite simple. Despite Temeraire's best efforts the servants treated him with a cold civility, but Laurence made no complaint and gave no sign that he noticed anything unusual in their behavior, save to marvel at their willingness to wait on him at all.

For the most part he stayed where Temeraire left him, as though he had nowhere else to go, and he would leave the tent on his own for only an hour each day, flying off in the direction of the breeding grounds and then coming straight back. At first Temeraire assumed he was making social visits, saying goodbye to his friends or neighbors, but after a few days he realized that Laurence had neither asked for nor ordered any food to be prepared for him. Immediately Temeraire realized that Laurence was still relying on his old eating arrangements, and he blushed to think of how remiss he had been in not arranging for a dragon chef to be hired.

He felt rather smug, and a little excited, when the next day he was able to present Laurence with a fat pig, slow-roasted over a fire and seasoned with pepper, glistening with a sweet glaze and garnished with white rice fried with the drippings.

"Is it to your taste, dear Laurence?" he asked eagerly, when the food had been brought out and presented with methodical efficiency. He meant the question sincerely; they had very little time before they would embark for China, and he hoped that Laurence would enjoy food prepared in the Chinese style. "I'm sure we can find beef, or a nice fish, if you would prefer."

"No! No not at all," Laurence insisted. "It is quite . . . I am quite satisfied."

Despite this, however, he did not begin to eat, and instead sat looking at the food as though puzzled by it. Temeraire watched him anxiously. He did not know what he should do if Laurence did not like the offering. Perhaps he should have hired an English chef, and taken that person back to China with them as well.

"Have you already eaten?" Temeraire pressed when a few more moments passed in which Laurence continued to merely contemplate his dinner. "I did not see you go, today, but I suppose . . . Although, I do wish you may rely upon me, from now on. I hope you know that I  _will_  care for you, as you have done for me."

Laurence laughed a little, and Temeraire felt the tension in his shoulders lessen somewhat. "It is good to see that you  _can_  be responsible, when you choose," he continued good-naturedly, leaning down to puff out a breath that ruffled Temeraire's hair. "It is only . . ."

Temeraire leaned forward, eager to learn the source of Laurence's discomfort.

"I have rarely eaten anything that I have not killed myself," he explained, with less self-consciousness than open curiosity, "unless I were ill or injured. I assure you that, though I have chosen not to take any more Captains, I am not  _so_ old as to require this kind of . . . of hand-feeding, as it were." 

"But," said Temeraire, confused and a little shocked, "it is only . . . Laurence do you mean to tell me that you have  _never_  had anyone prepare your food for you?"

"I have never had food  _prepared_  at all," Laurence chuckled, and Temeraire's heart clenched painfully. "I am more than hearty enough to eat-"

"Oh Laurence!" Temeraire cried, and threw himself upon the dragon's broad nose. He could not have begun to embrace the enormous creature, but Laurence seemed to understand his desire and curled himself around Temeraire instead. The world was reduced to a wall of dragon surrounding him on all sides, with no one but Laurence and Temeraire within.

"Are you alright, beastie?" Laurence asked anxiously, somehow managing to keep his snout quite still so as not to disturb Temeraire's slump. "I do not dislike the pig; it smells very good, and I am sure it will be delicious."

"Oh Laurence," Temeraire repeated, "my dear, sweet, patient Laurence. I should not have left you to the mercy of this cruel country a moment longer, once you were mine. I shan't neglect you so again, I promise."

"That is very kind of you, Temeraire," Laurence assured him, in tones that suggested he found Temeraire's promise more amusing than anything, as though he did not understand, as though he did not  _see_  that he ought to have had  _better,_  all along. "Now, if you please, I should certainly like to try this pig you are making such a fuss over, if it is as good as all that."

***

Temeraire had been most delighted to find out that the English government was planning to send a group of dragons and their Companions with the dragon transport, to see China and then to ensure that the transport itself made it back to England safely. His mother was pleased that they would be able to see how the ship kept up its supply with a full load of dragons aboard, but Temeraire had immediately begun to plan how best to display the condition of dragons in China, despite the frantic protests of Lord Bayan's man. He was determined to show as many English dragons as he could what they ought to have, and how poorly their native country treated them. 

He was cheered also to find out that they would be sailing with some of Laurence's own former comrades. On the day of their departure he was introduced to a Longwing acid-spitter named Catherine ("Kate, deary, I haven't been called 'Catherine' in over a century") and a Parnassian, bigger than any Chinese dragon but still not so big as Laurence, named Brutus. Their Companions were Captain Lily Harcourt, a tall, graceful woman with very short yellow hair hanging loosely around her face, and Captain Samuel Maxwell, a stout and solidly-built man with a large nose and a bristling of brown hair on his upper lip. They and the other Captains greeted Temeraire with great warmth, if some wariness.

"Don't let that old lummox fool you," said Brutus good-humoredly, bending his head down to whisper conspiratorially to Temeraire, though certainly anyone on the deck could have heard him. "He's only 180, no matter how much he likes to pretend he's 200, and he's got another war left in him yet if he cared to fight."

"I don't blame him for not wanting another Captain in the least," Kate sniffed, "and you ought to be more grateful, in my opinion, that Maxwell and his family are all of a good sort. Don't go blaming Praecidium when you know perfectly well why he chose to go to the breeding grounds."

She did not elaborate, and despite Temeraire's earnest inquiries they would say no more on the subject.

These two were the only dragons of the formation that were Laurence's yearmates, however, and the rest were much younger, either on their second Captain or hatched within Temeraire's lifetime. These youngest had the most difficult time aboard the ship, this being their first time at sea. They were all aware that there was no fighting to be done, where they were going, and the unusual nature of the voyage made them a little wary, and uncommonly protective of their Captains. The little ones in particular would almost sag in relief each time their Companions regained the dragon deck, and were forever asking where they had been and why they had been gone for so long. One of the lightweights, a brightly colored Xenica who was less than a decade out of the shell, was by nature a worrier due to his Captain being abnormally small and slight, and he had made a habit of insisting that she eat all her meals out on the deck so he could make sure she was being properly fed.

Kate and Brutus, being larger and much older, were less inclined to be overly worried. Laurence as well seemed perfectly content with whatever time Temeraire chose to spend with him, no matter how much or how little. It did not bother Temeraire that Laurence was so unconcerned, he knew that the anxiety of the other dragons was due mainly to their immaturity, but there was still some part of him that would have liked to be missed, when he was gone.

"Are you ever worried about me, when you cannot see me?" Temeraire asked one afternoon, reclining on Laurence's forearm as Laurence dozed lightly, lulled by the sounds of the sea and the gentle rocking of the ship.

Laurence cracked an eye, peering at Temeraire even though he could not see him clearly at this distance. "I am  _always_  worried about you, beastie," he said without heat, "whether I can see you or not doesn't change much."

Temeraire ducked his head, a little abashed, and glanced at the handful of attendants stationed on the edge of the deck. "But," he continued, "do you ever wish to know where I am? It is only that some of the others seem very anxious to keep track of their companions, and I wondered if you were ever-" 

"They worry because they are young," Laurence explained before Temeraire had finished. Temeraire blushed a little, feeling foolish for asking a question to which he already knew the answer, but Laurence surprised him by continuing, "I have been at this for nearly two centuries; I  _know_  how to keep track of my Captain."

"What?" Temeraire asked, and Laurence responded by reciting Temeraire's entire daily routine: when he woke, when he ate, when he studied, when he had tea with his mother, and even gave a good estimate of where in the ship all this was done.

By the time he was finished all of the Chinese within earshot were staring at him openly, and even a few of the dragons looked impressed. "But how could you possibly know all that?" Temeraire demanded, oddly pleased despite himself to be the subject of such studious attention.

Laurence flicked his tail dismissively. "One develops a sense for these things," he replied without a hint of smugness, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. He seemed not to notice the attention he had attracted; his focus was solely on Temeraire.

A thought struck Temeraire, making him wince. "Is it because I am so much trouble for you?" he asked anxiously. "Are you so careful because you are afraid I will get out of hand?"

Laurence nosed at Temeraire gently, so gently, and not for the first time Temeraire marveled at how so large a creature could manage to be so careful, always.

"I do not worry because you are difficult," he assured Temeraire softly, "I worry because you are  _dear._  More dear than anything in the world, my little beastie."

Temeraire stroked Laurence's muzzle until the dragon closed his eyes again, then settled back into his seat on Laurence's foreleg, feeling once again completely, utterly secure.

*** 

"Laurence, shall we go swimming?" Temeraire called, already climbing onto the railing of the ship. The day was hot, the sun beating down mercilessly without any hint of a cloud to obscure it, and his robes were getting increasingly uncomfortable. Surrounded by water as they were, it seemed ridiculous not to cool off in this way, and if he were to be swimming it seemed equally ridiculous to do so without his dragon.

"What?" said Laurence, lifting his head at once. "No! We're going too fast, you'll be dragged under the ship by the current! What are you-" 

But Temeraire, having anticipated this reaction, had already stood up on the railing and jumped as far out from the side of the ship as he could manage. He landed in the water with an undignified splash, and did indeed feel the pull of the current created by the ship's progress, but it was not so strong that he could not swim out of its reach with a few strokes. No sooner had he come spluttering and gasping to the surface however, than a large shadow passed over him, blotting out the sun completely for a few moments, and with an enormous upheaval of water Laurence landed in the ocean as well; his great weight coupled with the force of his leap carried Laurence completely underwater, obscuring his bulk completely beneath the waves. That same wave swept Temeraire dangerously toward the ship, but a moment later he felt something beneath him, and suddenly he was sitting on a broad, slightly curved surface which was lifting him rapidly out of the water. Laurence had somehow managed to position himself underneath Temeraire, and was now lifting him up with his snout.

He dumped Temeraire unceremoniously over the rail and back onto the ship, snorting seawater out of his nose even as Temeraire tumbled laughing onto the deck. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, already eyeing the side of the ship to try and find a way to maneuver himself back aboard. "You could have been-"

Temeraire, however, had already righted himself and was sprinting as fast as he could across the deck, bare chest glistening in the sun and his soaked trousers dripping everywhere. He could hear Laurence calling behind him in a booming voice, but as soon as he reached the opposite railing he climbed up and flung himself into the water one more.

This time he managed to get a short distance away from the ship and out into open water before he felt the swell of water created by Laurence's approach. Once more Laurence dipped his nose underwater, snorting powerfully as he lifted Temeraire clear of the waves, but this time he did not immediately deposit his charge back onto the ship. "Stop that!" he commanded, still blinking water out of his eyes. Even if he had not been so farsighted he would not have been able to see Temeriare well, sitting as he was on the dragon's nose, but he still crossed his eyes absurdly to try and fix Temeraire with disapproving glare.

"Laurence," he said plaintively, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice, "you will not make me beg, will-"

"You may beg, bargain, bribe and beat at my nose with your fists screaming all the while until your throat is raw!" Laurence snapped. "I refuse to let you drown yourself as long as you are my responsibility, and you may put a ball in my head if you like!"

Temeraire frowned. He did not like Laurence inviting his own death so casually, any more than he liked knowing that one of his favorite means of getting his way would no longer work. "You need not say such things," he replied petulantly, glowering even though he knew Laurence could not see it. "We are no longer in that barbaric country you were hatched in, so you needn't worry about being executed for something so silly. And, if you do not like my being in the water alone, then it seems to me you ought to stay out here with me, and stop me from drifting too close to the ship, or too far away from it."

In the end Laurence did stay in the water to swim with him, though in truth it was more like Laurence was swimming and Temeraire was riding just above the water. Laurence paddled along beside the ship with Temeraire on his nose, occasionally dunking his head so that Temeraire was doused briefly in cool seawater, then lifting him up again to let the sun dry him off before dunking him again just as he was beginning to get too hot. At first Laurence was a little wary and still unhappy with the circumstances, but by the end of the day he'd had to admit that it was a rather pleasant way to avoid the heat. 

***

Temeraire stood on the partially destroyed deck, watching the last of sea serpent's lifeless body slide from the ship and disappear into the ocean. It did not seem right, somehow, that it should have died this way. Certainly he had been afraid when he'd seen it emerge from the water; even more so when it had wrapped itself around the ship and Laurence had been forced to take to the air and do battle with it. There was something about its death, though, that felt wrong. It had not attacked them out of malice, after all. Likely it had only been looking for food, or frightened by this enormous entity that had come unprovoked into its territory.

"Temeraire!" called Laurence's voice from above, and suddenly the dragon was lighting on the deck beside him, causing the entire dragon deck to jolt with the force of his landing. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"No, I am well," Temeraire assured him, stroking Laurence's muzzle when the dragon lowered his head to nose at him carefully.

Laurence did not seem convinced. He reared up on his haunches to get a good look at Temeriare, then returned to his position leaning close to the deck and put out his tongue to sniff at Temeraire experimentally. "You do not sound like yourself," he said nervously. "Are you sure you are not injured?"

"I am not," Temeraire told him. Laurence puffed out a breath of warm air, and it was only when this heat washed over him that he realized he had been shivering. "It is only . . ." 

"What?" Laurence asked. He was crouched low, as small as a dragon of his size could possibly make himself. "Whatever is the matter, if you are not injured? You need not worry for the ship; she has been damaged, yes, but she can be repaired. We are in no danger, I promise."

"I am not afraid," Temeraire shook his head, wondering how anyone could be afraid after the ferocity Laurence had just displayed in his defense; indeed, he could imagine little that would put him in fear for his life, now. "It is only . . . well, it is dreadful, I cannot help but feel, that the sea serpent should have died so. It was no dumb beast, anymore than you or I, and it was only the case that it could not be reasoned with because it had not been taught to speak."

"She would have hurt you," Laurence said, and his voice was a low rumble very like a growl. He did not seem to be trying to be very loud, indeed his voice was no louder than it had been before, but the sound seemed to come from deep in his chest. Temeraire had heard the voice of his brother's Celestial companion, but this was not the roar of the divine wind; it did not resonate, vibrating like a plucked string, but seemed rather to move against itself. It was like the roll of thunder, like an earthquake, like the shifting of stones at the heart of a mountain.

Temeraire stared at him. "Yes, but-"

"She would have  _hurt_  you," Laurence repeated, practically trembling with distress and wrath. "The moment when someone is trying to kill you is not a time to worry about their reasoning. If they have some legitimate grievance that is one thing, but so too do you have a grievance if they are threatening your life. If you are being attacked, you  _always_  have the right to defend yourself, no matter the circumstances."

Temeraire put his hand once more on Laurence's muzzle, and he could feel that the dragon too was shivering. "I tried to pull her off the ship," Laurence said more gently, "but she would not let go. There was no way to make her stop, but to kill her. I would not have done it if there were any other way to protect you."

Temeraire leaned forward, resting his head on Laurence's quivering nose. "Laurence," he began, but just then there was a loud splattering noise, and Temeraire backed away a few step to peer around the dragon's body. There, along Laurence's side, was a great gash that was bleeding sluggishly, spattering the deck with black blood, and Temeraire gasped in horror.

"Laurence!" he cried, "why did you not say that  _you_  were injured! And whyever were you asking after me, when it is you that needs to be seen to!"

Laurence twisted his head to look at his own flank. "Oh," he said, somewhat bemused, "that is only a scratch Temeraire-"

"A scratch!" Temeraire exclaimed. "I should like to see what you call a real wound then, if you called that a scratch!"

Temeraire felt suddenly wretched. Whyever had he been worrying about the sea serpent when he had not yet seen to Laurence? Immediately he called for the dragon surgeon that had been sent with Kate's crew from England, but that man did not seem to think any more of the wound than Laurence did, though he sewed it up with such skill and efficiency that Temeraire could not find fault in his work before moving on to the others.

"Pray do not let it worry you," Laurence told him, once both the surgeon and Temeraire had pronounced the wound as well treated as it was likely to be, "I am quite well. And, pray don't trouble yourself about the serpent. She made the attack under no illusion that there would not be a response. She weighed the risks and made her choice; she could not have expected any dissimilar treatment from any of her own kind, if she challenged one that outmatched her."

"Yes, I understand," Temeraire assured him, seated once more on Laurence's foreleg with the dragon's head resting beside him. "I am only now worried for you, my dear Laurence. Are you sure it does not pain you still?"

"Not overmuch," Laurence replied, his eyes dropping, "although I am very tired."

"Would you like me to stay with you, until you fall asleep?" Temeraire asked anxiously.

"That would be very kind of you," Laurence said, fondly but without expectation. 

Temeraire was determined that Laurence  _should_  come to expect such kindness, from Temeraire and others, and so he stayed with Laurence long after the dragon's eyes had closed and his breathing had evened, despite the protests of his guard. His mother, very conspicuously, said nothing.

***

"You are missing a row of guns," said Laurence sleepily, one eye open as he peered at the drawing being made by one of the envoys.

The man in question looked up, startled. He and several of the other envoys were seated in chairs on the dragon deck, with Temeraire lounging in what was fast becoming his customary seat on Laurence's foreleg.

"What?" asked Temeraire, himself coming out of a light doze. Laurence nodded his head to indicate the man sitting some yards away, on the other side of the dragon deck, drawing an English Navy ship. An extensive study had been made of the dragon transport, of course, but they had also been able to see several other ships while they were in England. Careful sketches had been made, but almost entirely from memory, and now one of the men who had been charged with making these was looking at his notes and compiling them into a single, clean drawing.

"That is a first-rate," Laurence explained, referring to the picture. "First-rates have 104 guns, total, and that drawing is missing a row of guns. The way he has it drawn the ship would have only two gun decks, and only seventy guns, but a first-rate has three gun decks each of which can hold over thirty guns on both sides." 

All of the Chinese on deck, Temeraire included, were staring at Laurence in undisguised shock. Laurence looked round at them all in alarm, then put his head back down to the deck, trying to make himself small, as though to hide from their eyes.

"Why, Laurence," Temeraire said hurriedly, recovering quickly in the face of Laurence's distress, "you did not say you knew anything about ships!"

"Oh," Laurence sighed, relived that it he had only surprised and not offended his company. "The Aerial Corp is a branch of His Majesty's Military, just like the Navy, and I've had to work very closely with them on more than one occasion. Also, one of my previous Captains, the last-but-one, was very fond of a sailor. They exchanged letters often and saw each other whenever they could; whenever one of the letters came he would talk about nothing but ships and sea battles for days." 

Laurence looked a little smug. "I dare say I could describe any type of ship in His Majesty's Navy for you, if you liked."

"Oh Laurence that is wonderful!" Temeraire exclaimed. "Whyever did you not say so before? We came to England to learn about ships, after all; what you know could be a great help to us!"

"Indeed," said Temeraire's mother, having approached without any of their noticing and mounting to the deck as she spoke, "that would be most helpful. Such knowledge as yours would be extremely valuable to the Emperor."

Laurence lifted his head and bowed it slightly. "Of course, I will do everything that I can."

"Xiang," she continued, addressing him by his given name as only she and the Emperor himself were able, "can you see now why I gave you the name that I did?"

"I am in awe of your great wisdom, mother," Temeraire replied formally, recognizing this as an attempt to both teach him an important lesson, and demonstrate his intelligence before the limited selection of the court, "just as the younger must always respect the wisdom of the elder." 

She smiled approvingly, nodding in acknowledgement. "To the first son," she said, holding out one hand palm-up, "heaven grants the wisdom to uphold the Empire from within. To the second son," she held out her other hand, "heaven grants the good fortune to bring improvement to the Empire from without. These two together create a most auspicious reign." 

She turned her head and looked at Lord Bayan's man, sitting with the other envoys and remarkably tight-lipped. She kept her eyes on him as she continued, though she was still addressing her son. "It seems you have begun well, and made a most auspicious choice of Companion."

Temeraire beamed at her, practically glowing with pride. "The greatest gift I have ever received as the Son of Heaven is such a wise and magnificent mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Qian, ok? In all seriousness I think her giving Temeraire a name that meant "lucky" was her attempt to wish him luck in his life in the west. As of ToS I think she's decided that her wish for her son came true, and I was disappointed that we didn't get to see her in BoT, although that might have been because it would be really hard to explain why Laurence didn't remember spreading the cure to Europe and Asia.
> 
> Chenery is the Xenica, with tiny little Captain Dulcia, and Sutton's probably a Xenica too unless you think they'd be chill with letting a Yellow Reaper have a female Captain just because she happened to be the only offspring of his previous one. I figure Little is a Yellow Reaper, him and Sutton both being on their second Captains but having never left England before just because they'd never been stationed anywhere else. Warren is probably a Grey Copper, and Nitidus's mother is French or something so he has really French looking features and people make fun of him for it. I was going to make Berkley a Regal Copper (goodness knows he and Maximus are basically frat brothers) but apparently the Corp doesn't allow two Regals Coppers in the same formation, because they fight. Haven't decided what to do with Jane and Excidium yet.
> 
> Next ch will be Throne of Pearls, the rest of the stuff I came up with based on book 2. Not every book will have more than one chapter to it, but the trip to China is a biiiiig point of divergence.


	3. Throne of Pearl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that from now on the books will be divided into two chapters apiece. This and the previous chapter are the second book, the third book will be comprised of Black Powder Pass and White Sand War, etc. Now I just need a better title than Empire of Mushrooms.

The ship's arrival in port occurred with the customary amount of fanfare. All of the English sailors and aviators, as well as the English dragons, seemed overwhelmed by the sheer size of the greeting party, but Temeraire supposed this was to be expected of both foreigners and common folk. A few of the Chinese had been sent on ahead while the massive dragon transport had been waiting for the tide to be right to come into port, to explain the presence of the English dragons and Laurence's position as Temeraire's companion, so no one batted an eye at the formation and Laurence was given the proper respect due to a dragon of his station. Laurence in particular seemed a little humbled by the treatment, but he said nothing as he followed Temeraire ashore, crouching low so as not to seem like the biggest dragon there by quite so wide a margin.

There were a number of dragons among the congregation, including several Imperials. To Temeraire's dismay Lung Qin Li was among them, in a place of prominence as would have befitted a Prince's companion. She looked a little dejected as she watched Laurence hovering protectively over Temeraire, but she made no complaint and greeted Laurence as respectfully as any of the others. None of them quite seemed to know what to make of Laurence, but they knew their duty as the Emperor's subjects and bowed in deference to his authority.

At the head of the party, however, sat Lung Tien Yongxing and beneath him Princess Lien, both of them stiff and radiating displeasure. Lien looked like an unpainted doll, with her lotus-white hair and her skin pale as the moon, her ruby eyes the only points of color in her otherwise colorless face. She contrasted sharply with Yonxing's hide, blue mottled with black like a piece of turquoise scorched by fire. Yongxing's ruff was flattened to his neck, and Lien's expression was determinedly blank, though her eyes were hot and glaring.

"Oh what is  _she_  doing here?" Temeraire demanded sourly. _  
_

"The Emperor sent her and her companion to welcome us home," Qian replied placidly, not seeming the least bit perturbed.

"He must not think much of our mission," Temeraire scoffed, "to have sent  _her_  to greet us. I thought he wanted this venture to succeed, not be cursed by Heaven." _  
_

"Who is she?" asked Laurence as softly as he could manage, though Lien could probably still hear him and Yongxing almost certainly could.

"Another member of the Imperial Family," said Temeraire dismissively, "my . . . cousin, is I think the English word. Her father is the Emperor's son, but she cannot succeed the throne because Heaven cursed her to be born in mourning colors, so even though her father should be ahead of my brother he cannot be Emperor because he has no proper heir, and a curse upon his house besides."

"But . . ." Laurence trailed off, as though considering what Temeraire had said. "But, oughtn't you be glad to see her, if she is your family?"

" _No one_  is ever glad to see  _Lien,"_  Temeraire snorted, "except Yongxing I suppose. She's bad luck."

"You shouldn't speak ill of your family," Laurence chided. "If she is looked down upon by her countrymen by some . . . circumstance of her birth, which by its very nature is beyond her control, she aught to be able to rely on  _you_  for support and acceptance. You of all people should be the one to offer her friendship, beastie."

"I tried," Temeraire protested, "when we were children, but she is very unpleasant and does not like anyone but her dragon. Do not trouble yourself on  _her_  account, my dear Laurence, you are worth far more than she is. 

Laurence did not seem convinced, but as they were approaching Lien and Yongxing, he said nothing further.

Once Temeraire and Qian were before her Lien greeted both of them with the respect that was due to their station. Despite the fact that she too was of the Emperor's family she still bowed in deference to her elder, and to the second in line for the throne. The respect, however, was merely a formality; she made no attempt to hide her displeasure.

Though she was only six years Temeraire's senior she was still over a foot taller than him, so Lien was able to look down her nose at him easily as she fixed him with her hard red gaze. "Prince Xiang," she said with cold civility, "it seems your mission into the West has been fruitful. You have brought back many . . . visitors, to our land."

Temeraire was not sure he liked the emphasis she put on  _visitors,_  but if she intended to wrong-foot him he was determined not to rise to the bait. "We bring good tidings for the improvement of China," he replied smugly, "and many fond wishes from our new friends in the West. In return I shall display for our guests all the splendors of China, and their presence will help with the adjustment of my new companion."

Laurence nodded politely to Lien when he was mentioned, and Temeraire made a mental note of telling Laurence that it was  _Lien_  who was supposed to bow to  _him_  once she was out of earshot.

Lien however did not seem to agree. "Never before has a foreigner set foot into China beyond a port city," she insisted, "and now you think to bring a foreign dragon into the Imperial City as though he has any right to count himself among its residents?"

At this Laurence immediately bowed his head and lowered his shoulders, nearly curling in on himself in an attempt to shy away. Temeraire gaped at Lien like a fish, and even Qian looked disapproving.

"Lien," she said reproachfully, "Prince Xiang has taken this dragon for his companion. He has  _every_  right to count himself among the companions of the Emperor's family."

"You will not speak of Laurence in such a way again!" Temeraire found his voice at last, "and I will have you know that  _all_  these dragons are guests of the Emperor, and  _all_  of them will be welcome in the Imperial City for the duration of this visit!"

Yongxing flared his ruff in anger, leaning his head forward to loom protectively over Lien, but she held up a hand and he straightened again. For her part, Lien's expression did not change. She nodded stiffly to Temeraire and his mother.

"As you say, your Imperial Majesty."

***

Temeraire spent the flight to the palace grumbling to himself. Laurence did not seem particularly concerned by Lien's comments, thankfully, but he was quite distressed over Temeraire's foul mood. He asked over and over if Temeraire was alright, but each question simply made Temeraire more angry at Lien.

"I assure you I am quite well," Temeraire said, as soothingly as he could despite his own simmering rage. "I knew there were people who disliked our forming a relationship with the West; that, after all, is what our trip to England and this visit are all about. I simply did not think we would encounter opposition so soon, or from a member of my own family."

"There will always be those resistant to change," Laurence replied gently, more at ease now that he understood the source of Temeraire's distress. "You must, as always, think of the wishes and welfare of your people, but ultimately you must do what you feel is best for your nation as a whole."

That seemed like very good advice to Temeraire, and he relaxed a little, comforted by the steadying presence of Laurence's years of wisdom. He could not help but feel privately that Laurence's lack of formal education was no impediment to his obvious intelligence. Experience, he had often heard, was the best teacher, and Laurence had nearly two centuries of experience, not only with warfare but with leadership. He had watched Captain after Captain direct troops in battle, inspire loyalty in those under his command or fail to do so, and submit with grace to the age and experience of his commanding officers or learn the consequence of disregarding them. There did not seem to be any reason he could not be just as clever an adviser as any Imperial.

By the time they landed in the courtyard of the Imperial Palace, next to one of the larger pavilions which Temeraire estimated would be able to house the entire formation comfortably, he was feeling much better. It helped that Lien had come with them as far as the palace, but Yongxing had veered off when they approached the pavilion, so they were received by the servants without her biting commentary. 

Not, of course, that it went entirely smoothly without her. The moment they landed in the courtyard, first the English formation and then their entourage of Imperials, a number of servants came running out carrying a horrible set of leather talon sheaths, like those used by the dragons who made their living ferrying people about on silk cords to ensure that they did not accidentally injure their passengers.

"Prince Xiang!" called one of them frantically, a woman in the lead who addressed Temeraire while the others scurried about with the leather sheaths. "A moment only, your majesty, while we prepare your companion to lift you down safely."

"Laurence does not need those," Temeraire protested, glaring at the servants who tried to cover Laurence's claws in the ugly brown leather, "he is more than capable of carrying someone in his claws without hurting them. Stop that!" he snapped as they continued, headless of his words. "Laurence, show them!"

Laurence, who had up to now merely been watching the servants in mild curiosity and moving his talons as directed, pulled his claw delicately out of the mass of servants and offered it to Temeraire. The servants all gasped in panic as Temeraire climbed quickly into Laurence's grip, and then again in surprise when Laurence deposited him carefully onto the ground without so much as a scratch.

There was a pause once Temeraire was safely on the ground. None of the servants moved, several of them still clutching the leather sheaths as they stared gormlessly at Laurence. The English dragons looked on curiously as the Imperials all bent their heads together and started muttering among themselves. 

At long last Lung Qin Li stepped forward. "Please forgive the confusion," she said, bowing to Temeraire, and then turning to Laurence she continued, "we have little knowledge of English breeds, and we did not know that dragons served any such purpose as this in the West."

"Purpose?" Laurence repeated, perplexed. "What would being able to carry someone in my claws indicate about my purpose?"

"Naturally a dragon responsible for the care of children would have the exceptional control required for such gentleness," she elaborated, looking rather pleased with herself. "I suppose such a barbaric and unforgiving country as yours would be unsafe for children without an exceptionally large and powerful guardian to protect them."

"Care of children?" Laurence blinked, then shook his head, "No I am afraid your are mistaken. There are no dragons in England that can be spared from the war effort, and we have almost none who are not fighting breeds.There are the courier weights, who are too small for combat, but even they would never be trusted with such delicate work. The only way we could be said to 'protect children' is by defending the borders." 

Li looked taken aback. "But surely," she protested, "it is not for a fighting dragon to be so careful. It would not suit talons meant only for destruction to have the same gentleness as those whose work is more refined. These soldiers," she spread out her wings demonstratively, indicating the rest of the formation, "do not have such tight control, yes?" 

Laurence bristled at this. "Ma'am," he said sharply, "I assure you that it is the duty of every soldier in His Majesty's Armed Forces to treat his fellows with the utmost care and respect. There is not a dragon in His Majesty's Corp who cannot handle their crew just as safely as I have done."

To demonstrate, the rest of the formation began reaching up to retrieve their Captains from the harnesses. Some extended a claw and waited, as Laurence had done, but others simply snatched their Captains up and held them in their cupped talons. Brutus cradled Maxwell to his chest, deaf to his Captain's complaining, and Kate set Lily on the ground but continued to hover protectively over her, glaring at the Chinese dragons as though at any moment one might try to snatch her up and injure her in the process.

Lepidus, the little Xenica who was always so concerned that his Captain wasn't eating enough, refused to even let her down from his back. He glared at Li and demanded, "Do you mean to tell me that there are dragons in China who  _aren't_  so careful of humans?"

Deciding that Lung Qin Li had been in control of the conversation for long enough, Temeraire turned to Lepidus himself. "In China dragons who handle humans regularly wear talon sheaths," he explained. "No dragon will touch a human without them. Those who are richer and only carry their companions wear more ornamental ones, and those-" he glared distastefully at the leather sheaths, "are for dragons who carry people about for a living."

He turned to the servants, and Li. "Even if he needed anything of the sort, those are  _not_  the type of sheaths Laurence should be wearing."

"Humblest apologies, your Imperial Majesty," said the serving woman immediately, prostrating herself before Temeraire, "that we should have given such offense."

"Whyever did you think Laurence would wear such ugly things?" Temeraire wanted to know, scowling darkly at her.

"Princess Lien gave instructions," she explained, cowering.

Temeriare ground his teeth. "Of course she did," he hissed. It was so very  _like_  Lien to be polite to his face, and then arrange for this insult to be made when she was not present to receive his glare.

Suddenly he felt the warm presence of Laurene's snout at his back, and turned to find that Laurence was nosing at him carefully. "Beastie," he said, very softly, "do not be cross with her. If she was merely following instructions then she is not to blame, whatever you may think of the act."

Temeraire paused. What Laurence said was true: it was Lien who had done this, though she was not here, and the servants had meant no disrespect. It was she who deserved his anger, not them. He looked at the woman, trembling on the ground before him, and felt Laurence's calm, controlled presence behind him. Suddenly he felt very childish for his anger, and mindful that Laurence was watching he straightened his shoulders and schooled his features into an impassive expression, like the one his mother always wore.

"That is alright," he said, very handsomely in his own opinion, "you did only your duty.  I will arrange for Laurence to have some proper talon sheaths myself."

The servants all looked up at him, awe and relief in their faces, and suddenly Temeraire felt it very easy to smile benevolently at them.

Laurence puffed out a breath against him, ruffling Temeraire's hair as the servants stood up and continued the work of getting everyone settled. "Well done, Temeraire."

Out of the corner of his eye, Temeraire saw his mother watching them. It might have been a trick of the light, but he thought he saw her smile, just a little. 

*** 

Showing the splendors of China to the English dragons was an experience not to be matched. They marveled at every aspect of Chinese life, particularly those which men and dragons shared, to Temeraire's great satisfaction. Before long they were eagerly using the sand tables to try to learn to write, in both English and Chinese, and Temeraire was delighted to find that the natural proclivity for mathematics was common to English dragons as well. The Captains also took in the infrastructure with ever-growing interest, and many of them began to keep logs specifically detailing how society was improved by the addition of dragons to daily life. Lien and Yongxing hovered disapprovingly over the whole endeavor, but for once it seemed that Lien's ill luck would not spoil Temeraire's efforts.

It was gratifying also to see Laurence coming to terms with his own ill usage at the hands of his native country. Day by day Temeraire watched as first one then another of Laurence's arguments as to why it was only natural that dragons should be excluded from society melted away to a fresh understanding of fairness and justice. He started allowing himself more of the freedoms he had previously balked at, particularly well-prepared food on a schedule of his own choosing, and even began to make tentative requests of Temeraire, mostly in the form of invitations to see him at specific times, which Temeraire was always happy to oblige. 

The one thing he did not seem inclined to allow himself, however, was treasure. He had practically begged Temeraire to forgo a nicer set of talon sheaths, to his mind a singularly absurd piece of adornment which made any sort of eating ten times the more awkward and battle impossible, and he would hasten to change the subject whenever Temeraire brought up the possibility of other jewels. Temeraire had never heard of such a thing as a dragon who disdained treasure of any sort, and he was sure that this was the result of some other ill treatment he had not yet uncovered in Laurence's past, but in the meantime he did not know how to go about convincing him that he needn't deprive himself anymore.

As Laurence's first audience with the Emperor grew nearer and nearer however, eventually Temeraire could let the matter alone no longer.

"Gold will go particularly well with your coloring, dear Laurence," he said, as two servants proffered a shining golden collar set with red gems.

Laurence shrank back as though frightened to touch it. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," said Temeraire firmly, "it is."

"I hardly think so," Laurence replied, in tones that suggested he meant to use his superior experience with the world as a persuasive tactic. "I have gone my  _entire_  life-"

"As a soldier," Temeraire cut him off, "but you are a Prince's companion now, and you must look it."

"It wasn't any bauble that put this mad scheme of dragging me all the way to China just to look after you into your head," Laurence told him patiently. "Worth is not measured in the quality of the jewels one wears, and no gaudy trinket is going to make me any more or less yours."

"Still there are expectations, conventions," Temeraire argued, "you would not like to be seen as insulting the Emperor, would you Laurence?"

He had used this particular tactic too many times however, and Laurence simply gave him a disapproving look that said quite clearly it would not work again. Temeraire cast around for some other argument, some other way to persuade him.

"Would you not  _like_  to have them, though?" Temeraire asked plaintively, at long last.

"My harness has always suited me quite well," Laurence insisted.

"Yes, but surely you must  _want_  something nicer," Temeraire pressed. "Have you never had the desire for some treasure? To wear gold?"

Laurence shook his head. 

"Diamonds?"

He shook his head again.

"Silver and rubies?"

Another negative.

"White gold and citrine?"

Laurence huffed impatiently.

"Platinum and pearls?"

Laurence paused. He did not shake his head, or huff, but instead held himself perfectly still. Temeraire watched eagerly as a moment passed, then two, in which Laurence gave no answer. At last he turned his head to the side, as though in disinterest, but too late; Temeraire had seen his hesitation in disdaining that last option. He was clearly interested, but he seemed to be holding himself back.

"So you have no interest in platinum or pearls?" he prodded, grinning mischievously. Laurence tried to feign indifference by lowering his head to his forelegs, facing away from Temeraire, and closing his eyes in pretend drowsiness, but when Temeraire continued to stand there grinning, refusing to go on until Laurence gave him an answer, the dragon cracked one enormous eye.

"Pearls you say?"

It still took some effort after that to persuade Laurence to accept the gift, but once the platinum collar, decorated with gold inlay and with a dozen large pearls equally spaced around it, had been finished, neither Temeraire nor Laurence could argue with the result.

***

Laurence's first meeting with the Emperor went perfectly. Lien and Yongxing tried to interfere at every turn, but Laurence conducted himself with the utmost poise and control, despite his limited Chinese. Prince Xiang had always been a favorite of his grandfather, so the Emperor met the idea with great enthusiasm; a Western dragon serving as counterpart to a Celestial, so that it might be known that the twins were not Greater and Lesser, but on two different paths not to be accurately compared with one another. Prince Chuan was there also, his face as impassive as ever, but he greeted Laurence as befitting the Emperor's obviously high opinion of him. Still, Temeraire could not truly tell what his twin was thinking, as was all too often the case. Not for the first time he felt a pang of loneliness when he acknowledged the distance that had grown between himself and the constant companion of his childhood, but Laurence's presence soothed that feeling, and Temeraire was grateful for it.

After that, the day when the rest of the formation was to leave began to loom on the horizon. Laurence was applying himself to learning Chinese, but it was clear that he was doing so more to take his mind off the departure than anything else. Qian kept recommending poetry for Temeraire to read to him, a pastime he seemed indifferent to but Temeraire was almost sure he did not like.

"Would you prefer to do something else Laurence?" Temeraire asked one afternoon, as he noticed at last that Laurence was paying him far more attention than the book.

"I assure you there is nothing else I would rather do," Laurence told him amicably. 

Temeraire looked at him skeptically. "You do not seem to be enjoying it very much. Perhaps I should find some written by a dragon, instead?"

"Any kind at all suits me perfectly, as long as it is you reading it," Laurence said, nuzzling him gently. Temeraire beamed, but Laurence went on. "If you are reading me poetry, beastie, you aren't getting into trouble."

Temeraire responded with a glare, and Laurence laughed.

At long last the evening before the formation were scheduled to return to England arrived, and something of a celebration was arranged to mark their departure. A banquet was held, with a combination of Chinese and English dishes, and then a play was performed. Temeraire was enjoying the evening, and enjoying how much Laurence was enjoying the evening, and happily contemplating how quickly he could expect letters from all his new friends about the changes that would surely be made in England.

He should have known that Lien would ruin everything. 

Under the guise of fireworks for the play, a large number of smoke bombs had been set off. Laurence, unable to see Temeraire in the confusion, had taken to the air, beating his wings mightily to clear the smoke. With Laurence and Temeraire now separated and all possible witnesses blinded by smoke, several of Lien's attendants had cried that Laurence was attacking the Emperor, and Yongxing had thrown himself aloft to challenge the bigger dragon. 

Thankfully the plan had not accounted for the rest of the English formation. Before Yongxing could muster the breath to roar properly Brutus had barreled into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Lepidus had then gone straight for the Celestial's eyes, clawing at them to remove his means of finding his target. Kate had joined Laurence in trying to clear away the smoke, her enormous wings making quick work of it.

As the fight raged on above them Temeraire sought Lien, pushing through the crowd to where she stood perfectly still amidst a cluster of frantic retainers. "Lien!" he called furiously, "Stop this! Tell Yongxing to come down and stop attacking!"

Lien turned to him, the picture of calm. In her left hand she held a long, elegant knife. "You did this," she said simply. "You should have left well enough alone."

She lunged at him, but Temeraire dove out of the way. He snatched up a piece of wood, from a balcony that had been destroyed by the explosion of the bombs.

"How dare you!" Temeraire spat, swinging the crude weapon wildly. Lien merely stepped back out of his reach.

"You have no idea how lucky you are, Xiang," she continued, as though Temeraire hadn't spoken. "You were born perfect, and yet you are determined to sully your grace as the son of heaven by associating with these barbarians."

"And what are you doing?" Temeraire demanded, "to be attacking the Emperor's grandson? To be taking up arms against your own family?"

"I am defending China," Lien replied, and lunged again.

"Temeraire!" Laurence bellowed from aloft, streaking towards the ground to snatch him up and away from Lien's blade. 

Above him Yongxing turned blindly toward the sound of Laurence's voice. He extricated himself from Kate and Brutus, with whom he had been grappling, and flung himself downward toward the source of the cry.

"No!" Lien cried, but it was too late. The force of Yongxing's dive brought him to the ground much faster than he had obviously anticipated. A piece of the destroyed balcony was tilted at an angle, its point facing the sky.

When the smoke finally cleared Laurence was holding Temeraire, Lien was on her knees sobbing, and Yongxing was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank voxDei for the idea the different kinds of talon sheaths. I'll admit with no shame at all that I sort of wanted the British to be better at something.
> 
> I always thought it was super cute that Temeraire's favorite gem was something to do with the sea, which is of course Laurence's favorite thing. I figured if dragon!Laurence had a weakness for any kind of gem, pearls were the only one that made sense.
> 
> For those of you who want a sneak peak at White Sand War, because my updating schedule is likely to be extremely frustrating for everyone involved, Granby is a Longwing.


	4. Black Powder Pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIVE! sorry, i got sidetracked by bad cw tv shows, but i'm back now and i WILL finish this story. this chapter is so late i had to struggle to finish it in time for the new freaking year, so i wouldn't have gone all of 2016 without writing for temeraire. i haven't finished league of dragons but i will, and then i will find a way to make the rest of the books work in the context of this au. i'm gonna do it. i'm gonna do the thing.

It took roughly a month, just enough time for the dragon transport to get far enough away that it could not be reached by any Chinese-made ship quicker than it could reach England, for the message to reach the Imperial City.

There were an uncomfortable number of unknown factors to the war in Europe. Aside from the shadowy figure who had declared himself Emperor of France and how little intelligence England had on his identity or his whereabouts, the enemy strategy was getting increasingly difficult to parse out. A recent assault on the border, using dragons to ferry troops across instead of ships, had gotten much farther inland than anyone could be pleased with before they had been forced back nearly a month later, and there could be no doubt that another attack, either against Britain or one of her allies, was pending.

To compensate for the losses and in preparation for future need, the British government had decided to sell three dragon eggs to the Turks for an enormous sum of gold. The hope had been that it would solidify relations between the two nations, as well as lining the English treasury with substantial resources for the war effort.

The eggs -- a Yellow Reaper, a Malachite Reaper, and a Longwing -- had been delivered. The gold, however, had not. Catherine's formation was to return to England over land and stop in Istanbul to see what the difficulty was. Failing this, they were to retrieve the eggs, by any means necessary.

It was the 'by any means necessary' that had Laurence so concerned.

"You do understand this mission may require violence?" he asked for eighth time that morning as Temeraire oversaw the preparations for their departure. "Even if the Turks are amenable and there is merely some misunderstanding we will be flying into a country torn by war. There is no telling but we may see battle Temeraire!"

"So you have said," Temeraire replied, for the seventh time that morning, "but this mission is of the utmost urgency. If the eggs hatch then it will be much more difficult to transport three hungry dragonets across Europe, and if this Emperor wins any more battles it may be even less safe later on! Really there is no choice Laurence, we must go."

"An entire formation was meant to carry out this mission," Laurence reminded him. He was crouched in his pavilion, watching servants and soldiers alike scurrying about as they made ready to leave.

"Which is why we are bringing six Scarlet Flowers with us," Temeraire countered, standing determinedly just outside the pavilion, at precisely the distance where Laurence could see him best. "They will make our party the same size as an English formation, and I am sure that if there is a battle they will manage quite well."

"They are expecting an English envoy," Laurence tried, hitting upon a point he had not thought of before. "They may not be willing to hand either gold or eggs over to a Chinese party they have no reason to believe is acting on orders from England."

"Which is why you and I must go," Temeraire said triumphantly, neatly countering the argument and making Laurence frown. "You are an English dragon, anyone can see that, and with you leading our party there can be no question that our nations are now allies."

Laurence rumbled unhappily, but said nothing else. Temeraire was becoming increasingly aware that winning arguments with Laurence was significantly less satisfying than winning arguments with anyone else, if at the end of them Laurence was unhappy. Even if he ended up getting his way, if it meant being difficult then it hardly seemed worth the dragon's displeasure, or worse, his disappointment. Temeraire was swiftly growing to hate disappointing Laurence, which was very inconvenient because Laurence was disappointed by almost all things which were fun. Already he was beginning to prefer spending hours listening to the dragon's war stories to his usual forms of more mischievous entertainment, and he was beginning to fear that he was in danger of turning into a very boring person, like Chuan had become.

This, however, would not be boring. It was a bit too dangerous for Laurence's taste, but it could hardly be called mischief, and with no one else to hand fit to carry out the task it was only responsible, he reasoned, to do it himself.

So, he wheedled.

"Laurence, I would not for the world distress you," he said as gently as he could, "but surely you must see how necessary this is. Our friends in England need us, and if our alliance is to hold strong we cannot miss this chance to show our solidarity. We are the only ones in a position to intervene, surely it is our responsibility to do something?"

There was a pause as Laurence considered this. He frowned in thought, obviously grasping for some objection but unable to think of anything suitable. Temeraire watched with growing excitement as he huffed, grumbled, and finally spoke in a low, grudging tone.

"I suppose I should not discourage this new sense of responsibility," he admitted.

"Certainly not," Temeraire hastened to agree.

"You will promise me not to take unnecessary risks?" Laurence continued seriously.

"Of course," Temeraire said stoutly.

"And, you will at least  _ listen _ to my advice when we are abroad?" the dragon's final condition came as no surprise.

"Why Laurence," Temeraire protested in mock offense, "when have I ever not listened to you?"

Laurence snorted in the way that meant he was decidedly not amused, and Temeraire beamed at him.

***

Not for the first time Temeraire was struck by how remarkably inefficient the world outside China was. As soon as they passed the border the landscape became a confusing mess devoid of any markers of direction visible from the air, and the farther they went the more wary people became of a formation of dragons flying overhead. They had to resort to hiring a guide to get them across the desert who promptly abandoned them once they reached the mountains, forcing them to hire another.

Their new guide was a Nepalese native called Arkady who refused to give any other name than that. He had seemed perfectly friendly at their first meeting, though Laurence had harbored some misgiving which Temeraire could not fathom, and had expressed no reservation about guiding a party of seven dragons across the Himalayas. He even had a very clever scheme of keeping them all fed, by drugging pigs with opium to keep them calm as they were carried. 

It had all seemed very well settled, until the night when Laurence refused to eat.

"It smells  _ wrong _ ," he protested, eyeing the roast pig that had been prepared for him warily.

"Is it not cooked through, perhaps?" Temeraire asked, glancing suspiciously at the servants who had prepared it, all of whom cowered under his gaze.

Laurence shook his great, golden head. "No," he admitted, "but there is something off about it."

"It was not ill, was it?" Temeraire inquired. He  _ knew _ the servants knew better than to feed Laurence diseased meat.

"No no," he insisted hurriedly, perhaps anticipating Temeraire's thoughts, "I would know that smell. I do not think that it was anyone's fault but there is something peculiar about it."

Laurence shook his head decisively. "I do not want it," he said, "pray take it away. And  _ you _ shan't eat it either, little beastie, I do not trust it."

Temeraire was puzzled but signaled for the servants to obey. He did not think anything more of the pig, merely worrying whether Laurence was very hungry without supper, until later that night when a few of the soldiers began to notice that the Scarlet Flowers in their party had all fallen into a deep sleep and would not be roused. He did not get much time to think on it further however, for that was when the bandits attacked.

There were more than thirty of them, well hidden among the rocks and snow until they burst out of their hiding places and bore down upon the camp. Immediately the soldiers drew their weapons, but most of them were more accustomed to fighting on dragonback and were quickly overwhelmed. A few of them did not bother arming themselves and merely went back to trying to wake the Scarlet Flowers, albeit with a great deal more urgency, but those dragons remained steadfastly asleep.

Laurence, however, was not.

As soon as the bandits began to appear he snatched Temeraire up, placing him upon his back where he could latch himself onto the ornamental harness that had been made especially for the journey. By the time he had assured himself of Temeraire’s safety the camp was already nearly overrun, and those few soldiers who had not been subdued were rallying around him. Laurence roared, loud enough to catch the attention of the entire congregation, and then he spread his massive wings and loomed over the bandits, casting a menacing shadow.

These bandits, however, were evidently familiar with dragons. As one each of them took hold of the nearest soldier and held a weapon to their throats, using them as shields against Laurence’s wrath. He could not simply flatten them with his claws with the soldiers in the way, and Arkady, evidently the leader, called up to Temeraire.

“Call him off,” he said, in his thick accent, “or we slit their throats!”

“How dare you!” Temeraire responded. “After I trusted you as well! Release my people at once!”

“Give us the money you carry with you,” Arkady countered, “and we will leave you in peace.”

Temeraire opened his mouth to refuse, but just then a hideous noise emanated throughout the flat outcropping where they had made camp. A horrible screeching scream swept over them, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once, and Temeraire had to clap his hands over his ears to block it out. On the ground all of the bandits were doing the same, allowing the Chinese soldiers to stumble toward Laurence, also with ears covered. Arkady was yelling something which could not be heard over the noise, and upon that scene swooped down the shadow of a dragon.

The dragon landed, and Temeraire was able to see that it was a large but spindly creature, bony and angular with wings nearly translucent they were so thin. Its snout was long and pointed, and its great jaws were open, evidently emitting the noise. Arkady turned to it, still covering his ears, and began shouting up at it with an angry expression, but his voice was drowned out by the continued horrific scream.

“Stop!” Laurence bellowed. “Enough! You will cause an avalanche!”

Immediately the spindly dragon stopped, closing his mouth to look at Laurence with a bored expression.

“I will not,” he said, in the clearest King’s English. “I was quite careful.”

Laurence stared at him blankly. “You speak English?”

“Yes,” said the spindly dragon curtly, then was silent.

“If you would not mind moving aside,” Laurence said testily, “I need to squash these traitors.”

“I would thank you not to,” the spindly dragon replied calmly, as though scarcely concerned by Laurence’s anger. “It is true they acted quite discourteously, but they are, in a way, mine.”

Laurence blinked at him in bemusement. “Are you not feral? I was unaware that there were any harnessed dragons in this part of the world.”

“I am not in harness, as you can see,” said the spindly dragon. “I have no captain, only I sometimes help these fools hunt, and in exchange they help to keep me warm.”

The spindly dragon inclined his head. “I am Tharkay,” he introduced himself, “and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I am Praesidium,” said Laurence, also inclining his head, “and this is my captain, Prince Xiang of China.”

“How unusual,” said Tharkay, sounding interested, “to find an English Regal Copper in the hands of a Chinese prince.”

“The circumstances were rather strange,” Laurence admitted, “but I confess I have never seen a dragon of your breed before. Surely you cannot have been bred in these mountains, given how ill suited your build is to the cold.”

Temeraire took a moment to consider this. He had not thought that Tharkay even  _ had _ a breed, and had assumed he was merely a feral of the mountains, but now that he thought about it what Laurence said was true. It was highly improbable that such a delicate dragon, clearly unable to keep himself warm, would have naturally come about in such cold conditions.

“You guess correctly,” Tharkay told him, “but now that you mention the cold I find myself rather uncomfortable. Shall we retire to my cave and discuss the matter further?”

Temeraire wrinkled his nose at the thought of spending the night in a cave, like the one Laurence had previously lived in. He did not like any reminder of the conditions in which his dear friend had previously lived.

Laurence, it seemed, agreed with him. “I think not,” he said, suddenly suspicious. “We shall build a fire for you here, and then discuss what should be done about those bandits of yours.”

Tharkay acquiesced to this gracefully, and immediately the bandits were put to work clearing away the snow and gathering wood for a bonfire. Between the two of them Laurence and Tharkay had quite defused the situation, and now the bandits and soldiers were cautiously working together. Still, Laurence did not let Temeraire down from his back, so Temeraire was privy to every detail of his conversation with Tharkay.

“You are correct in thinking I am not a Himalayan feral,” Tharkay said, once the pile of wood was beginning to catch fire. “I was, in fact, and English crossbreed, in the beginning.”

“Of what breeds?” Laurence wanted to know.

“I know only that my sire was a Parnassian,” Tharkay said, “and from him I get my large size. Beyond that I was never told.”

“Your captain did not tell you?” Laurence queried.

“I have never had a captain,” Tharkay told him.

“You would not go into harness?” Laurence guessed. He did not sound judgemental, only curious.

“I was not offered the choice,” Tharkay explained. “I came out of the shell deformed, and was left to die.”

“What!” Temeraire exclaimed. “They simply left you?”

“I was of no use to them,” Tharkay said, voice devoid of any emotion.

“But you have a special ability!” Laurence protested. “That peculiar roar of yours could turn the tide of battle, if applied correctly!”

“I did not have it always,” Tharkay corrected. “I learned it once I was full grown.”

“How did you come to be in the mountains aiding bandits?” Laurence wanted to know.

“I traveled a long way,” Tharkay said vaguely, “in search of a place where a dragon of my size could live undetected. Few humans bother even to cross these mountains, let alone live here.”

“Sir,” said Laurence, straightening his spine while nonetheless making sure Temeraire had an even surface to stand on, “I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for what was done to you.”

Tharkay stared at him, his expression unreadable. “What have you to apologize for?” he asked, almost conversationally.

“China may be my home now,” Laurence explained, “but Britain was the land I served for many decades. It was the land of my sire, and to this day she still commands a measure of my loyalty.”

Here Laurence paused, craning his head to peer at Temeraire, though he could not have seen him very well. “I have only recently come to realize that their way of handling dragons is . . . less than gentlemanly,” he admitted, as though with great difficulty, “and I regret that there was a time in my life when I might have defended their actions toward you. For that, Tharkay, I am sorry.”

Tharkay inclined his head. “You are too kind,” he said stiffly, as though slightly uncomfortable.

“However,” Laurence went on, surprising both Tharkay and Temeraire, “honor, nay duty, compels me to tell you that Britain has reached her hour of greatest need. If you have any love for that country left, I would request that you accompany us back there and go into harness to defend her. The corp would welcome a dragon with a special ability like yours, and you could have your pick of Captains.”

“Sadly, I must refuse,” Tharkay said, still stiff but this time with a curious edge to it that made Temeraire wary. “I do not, as you say, have any love left for that great nation. She holds no power over me.”

“I understand,” Laurence inclined his head respectfully. “Please understand I had to make the attempt, but I cannot blame you for refusing. It is your right.”

“It is growing late,” Tharkay cast a glance at the darkened sky. “We should sleep. My poor fools will not attack you tonight; the opium should be wearing off soon and your red dragons will awaken. Have no fear.”

“Come sleep by me,” Laurence invited as he sank to the ground. “You will be warmer.”

Tharkay hesitated a moment, then made his way carefully around the fire to fold himself against Laurence’s side.

“You, little beastie,” Laurence directed his attention to Temeraire, “will stay up there. Have one of the soldiers bring you a blanket.”

“You do not trust me?” Tharkay wondered, his tone almost mocking.

“I trust you,” Laurence corrected, then flicked his tail in Arkady’s general direction. “It is them I do not trust.”

***

“It is a pity we had to leave Tharkay behind,” Temeraire said, as the mountains began fading into the distance behind them, “he might have told us a little of this country.”

“I think he is fonder of Arkady than he is willing to say,” Laurence speculated.

“He did not allow Arkady to harm anyone in our party,” Temeraire pointed out, “even though he wanted to.”

“Arkady did not wish to harm us,” Laurence said, “but he would have, and that would have brought down the ire of at least one dragon, even if I did not stop him myself. Tharkay knew that Arkady would be in danger if he went through with his plan. He would not have allowed that.”

“You think Arkady is his companion?” Temeraire wrinkled his nose. “He seemed so polite, though, to have bound himself to a bandit.”

“Arkady showed him kindness when no one had before,” Laurence said. “It is unwise to underestimate the power of a kind word or deed, especially when someone is unused to it.”

Temeraire considered this carefully. He supposed he could understand how someone who had been cast out of their home might think particularly highly of someone who accepted them. Even if that person was not a very good sort of person, they might  _ seem _ better than they were, to someone who had no point of comparison.

After some days of travel they finally arrived in Istanbul, only to find a fresh source of frustration waiting for them. Or rather, several fresh sources of frustration. First it took some time to convince the officials who came out to give them a very cold greeting that they were there on behalf of England. Then it seemed that the English ambassador had disappeared, and hence could not confirm their story about Kate’s formation having been sent to collect the eggs. They were shown to a courtyard and told to wait, but for the better part of a day nothing happened.

“What is the difficulty?” Temeraire snapped at no one in particular, after their tenth hour of waiting. “Surely the Sultan must have prepared to meet us by now.”

“Patience beastie,” Laurene said, from his position with his head resting on his forelegs. He seemed completely unperturbed by the delay, which Temeraire found inordinately frustrating.

“I do not want to be patient,” Temeraire said petulantly. “I want to collect the eggs and be on our way.”

“This is no mere errand, Temeraire,” Laurence said, voice as calm and patient as any member of the imperial court. “This a diplomatic mission, which must be handled delicately. You must be careful and deliberate, for you represent your entire nation, as well as your allies in England. There may well be some misunderstanding, and we must be prepared to sort it out.”

Temeraire grumbled, but privately conceded that Laurence was probably right. Laurence was usually right about most things, and more and more Temeraire was coming to rely on his advice. He tried to picture what his mother would say, if she were there, and could not imagine her advice being different from Laurnce’s. He settled in to wait.

Eventually though Temeraire was told that he would be able to see the Sultan, and he and Laurence were escorted to an audience chamber. Temeraire sat proudly upon Laurence’s back, trying to seem as calm and collected as Laurence was. He was fourteen, now, nearly a man, and he was certainly mature enough to handle a diplomatic mission such as this.

All thoughts of diplomacy, however, fled from Temeraire’s mind at the sight of Lien.

The Sultan was seated upon a pile of cushions stacked atop a magnificent throne, and Lien stood to one side. She did not speak, did not even look at Temeraire, but kept her cold, patient eyes focused on the far distance. Temeraire could barely follow what was being said to him, so intense was his focus upon Lien. What could she be doing here, accompanying the Sultan? How long had she been here? What did she plan to do? Would she seek revenge for Yongxing? Would she try to harm Laurence?

“I thank you for your kindness,” Temeraire managed, before he and Laurence were swept from the chamber.

“What on Earth could Lien be doing here?” Temeraire demanded, once Laurence had set him down in the courtyard once more.

“I do not know,” Laurence admitted, sounding anxious and agitated, “but we have greater problems. Did you hear what the Sultan said?”

“A lot of polite nothing,” Temeraire recalled as best he could. He had not been very focused on the conversation.

“He does not mean to help us sort this out in a timely fashion,” Laurence explained gently. “Which means-”

“He does not mean to give us the eggs!” Temeraire realized in alarm. “This must be Liens doing! Oh, when I see her I will-”

“You will what, Prince Xiang?” said a familiar voice from the edge of the courtyard.

Temeraire spun around, to see Lien making her way sedately towards him.

“You!” Temeraire spat. “What are you doing here?”

“You have overthrown the whole of my life,” Lien said by way of explanation. “Torn me from family and friends and home.”

“You did that to yourself,” Temeraire argued. “It was not I who took up arms against my own family.”

“You have ruined all my hopes for China,” Lien continued as though Temeraire had not spoken, “and I must live knowing that all for which I fought and labored was for naught. The spirit of my dearest friend will live unquiet, and his grave go untended. What did you expect me to do, Xiang?”

“Not turn you back on China!” Temeraire said. “Have you no shame Lien?”

“It is you, who have neither shame nor honor,” Lien countered, “as you stand at the feet of an English barbarian.”

“You will not speak to Laurence like that!” Temeraire insisted. “And you will not harm him, or me. Yongxing’s fate was brought upon him by you and you alone. It was not my fault or Laurence’s.”

“I have no wish to harm you,” Lien said calmly.

Temeraire blinked. “Then-” he paused, looking at her curiously. “Then, what do you-”

“I will see you bereft of all that you have,” Lien said, and her voice had taken on the quality of ice. “Of home and happiness and beautiful things. I will see your nation cast down, and your allies drawn away. I will see you as alone and friendless and wretched as am I, and then you may live as long as you like in some dark and lonely corner of the Earth. And I will call myself content.”

Temeraire could do nothing more than stare as Lien inclined her head, then turned and left the courtyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of people who liked this story have probably lost interest but comments are love and make me want to write more.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a lovely fanart by pencilcat:
> 
> http://pencilcat.tumblr.com/post/72523547319/a-failed-doodle-but-i-blame-chocolate-dandy-for


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